My Girl Imogen
Chapter Eight
by Matthew Penn
Mike woke up at six, shaved, and then showered. As he stepped out of the shower, Imogen handed him a piece of toast and a cup of tea. Though his eyes were still full of sleep, Mike had to stop and admire her that perfect, naked body. Flat stomach. Gravity defying breasts with the golden rings through those ripe nipples. Her platinum blonde hair had grown long enough for her to part it on the side and slick it down in a way that reminded Mike of the 1960s model Twiggy, though of course none of the rest of her full figure did.
After eating his breakfast, Mike got dressed in some of the sharp new clothes that he had acquired over the winter break. Along with a pair of khaki dockers, new brown belt, and new brown shoes, he donned a light blue, solid silk camp shirt. He had lost ten pounds since his last day at school, but it seemed like more, because he had added quite a bit of muscle, with daily brisk walks and workouts three times a week.
Imogen waited at the door, still naked, of course, to kiss Mike good-bye. Then he was out the door and walking down the street toward Midland Middle School. It was a clear Tuesday morning. Not a cloud in the sky. Quite a few cars filled the streets as people made their way to work or took their children to school. Mike was ahead of the big crowd that would follow as the majority of middle school students made the final rush, but there were a few early risers already trekking down the street.
“Hey, Mr. Anderson!” came a shout from about half a block away.
Mike raised his hand in a wave. He knew that the student belonging to that voice didn’t want to speak to him. He just wanted a little recognition that he did, in fact, exist. By the time he reached the school grounds he had been hailed by three other students in the same way. The walk had taken no more than twenty minutes, and Mike felt pretty good for having taken it rather than driving the car.
Midland Middle School faced away from Mike’s house, so he entered through one of the back doors, rather than walking around to the main entrance. The teacher’s parking lot was in the back of the school, so this was the entrance that Mike would have used regardless. As he entered the building, he met Janice Lowell, a Math teacher and one of Mike’s lunch buddies. Janice was quite attractive, despite being definitely on the chubby side, and was, as always, perfectly dressed and made up. Mike suspected that she was a lesbian, though he had never asked her.
“Hey, you’re looking very handsome,” she said. “New clothes for Christmas?”
“Thanks,” replied Mike. “My new wife bought them for me.”
Janice stopped and looked at him with an open mouth.
“That’s right. I got married.”
“You’re kidding. When did you meet her. You didn’t say anything about dating anyone before winter break.”
“I just kind of found her,... just before Christmas.”
“Well congratulations,” said Janice. “You know that Hans got married too.”
“Really.”
Hans Rolf was another lunch buddy, a young man in his third year of teaching. Despite the Germanic name, Hans was about as American as a person could get. Mike was pretty sure he had heard the story of how Hans had received such an unusual name, but he couldn’t remember what that story was. He did remember that Hans had been in an on-again-off-again relationship with a girl named Julie he had met at a teacher’s convention.
Mike went to his classroom, which was only feet from the school’s back door, and popped open his lesson plan book. He then wrote the class objective, sponge activity, daily lesson, and homework assignment on the white board, in the boxes he had created with electrical tape at the beginning of the year. Today they were going to be starting the unit on China. This would be a four week unit, but today Mike would start it off with a twenty minute video field trip of China followed by a few stories. Mike had written on the board that he was lecturing, but he wasn’t really planning to. He would let the students take him “off topic” by asking questions. That way they felt like they were getting away with something, when it was actually these stories that he wanted them to hear in the first place.
Other teachers began to pop into his room one after another, having heard about his marriage. They asked him questions, usually the same two or three, over and over again. Mike answered them simply, with as much honesty as he was prepared to give. Who was she?
“Her name is Imogen.”
What did she do?
“She works part time, dealing in antiques and collectibles.” (Mike, in truth, had no idea what kind of things Imogen had been buying on ebay, though he knew she had been selling his old junk.)
What was she like?
“She’s fantastic.”
“People are not fantastic,” said Mrs. Burns, the librarian. “people are wonderful, pleasant, admirable, amiable, attractive, appealing, or magnificent. But unless they are from outer space or are ten feet tall, they are not fantastic.”
“I’m going to stand by fantastic,” said Mike.
“Hey big man!” shouted Hans when he came by. “Are we the major babe magnets or what?”
“Well, you are,” said Mike.
“Come on,” continued Hans. “You look really good. You must have lost twenty pounds over the break.”
“About twelve.”
“Well, all the women here can’t figure it out. They all think you look younger.”
“It’s married life,” said Mike.
“Cool. Do I look younger?”
“No,” Mike laughed. “If you looked any younger I’d have to change your diaper.”
“Well, you’ve been married before. Give me your pearls of wisdom,” said Hans.
“Lesson one: the two most important words I’m sorry. Lesson two: never forget one of her important dates birthday, Mother’s day, anniversary, Valentine’s day.”
“What about my important dates?”
“You don’t have any important dates. And if you do, nobody cares about them.
“Lesson three: buy an expensive gift and hide it. That way, when you do forget one of those days, and you will, you will have a present to pull out, so that you can pretend like you didn’t forget.”
“That’s a great idea!” said Hans.
“Of course it is. That’s why I’m telling it to you. Lesson four: don’t forget to replace that gift after you use it. Lesson five: never say, imply, or insinuate that she is fat. The rest you’ll pick up through trial and error, emphasis on the error.”
Hans laughed, slapped Mike on the shoulder, and left.
The students started filing in shortly thereafter. The lesson went well. Mike repeated it during second and third hour. Mike was surprised that so many students commented on his weight loss. All in all, it felt pretty good to be back in the classroom. Though he enjoyed his days off, and frequently joked that the best reasons to have this job were June, July, and August, the truth was, that Mike was a great teacher who made Geography come alive for many students.
Lunch time came after third period, and Mike locked his room and made his way down to the teacher’s lounge. He stopped by the men’s room and washed his hands, and then got in line at the food window. Peering over the heads of those in line in front of him, he read the calendar shaped menu scotch-taped to the glass. Vegan burger on bun with baked fries. Caribbean chicken sandwich on wheat bun. French bread pizza with tossed salad.
“There’s nothing here I want to eat, drive, or have sex with,” said Mike. Then he noticed that everyone in the room was looking toward the door. Turning to look himself, he saw Imogen walking in.
Imogen had her still short platinum blonde locks covered by a penny-red wig styled in a sassy bob. She was wearing a knee-length yellow and white sun dress that no one could say was not school appropriate. The way that the airy, light material swirled around her as she walked made it seem as though it weren’t though. It floated like wisps of white and yellow cloud covering her. The four inch ankle wrapped sandals made her appear to be hovering half a foot above the ground as she walked, adding to the ethereal effect. She carried a wicker picnic basket in one hand. When she saw Mike, she ran to him, leaping into his arms, and kissed him deeply. Everyone in the teachers’ lounge stared at them open-mouthed.
“All right, Mr. Anderson!” yelled the eighth grader working at the cafeteria window. Everyone in the teachers lounge began to laugh.
Imogen sat down next to Mike at his usual table. The others at the table scooted around to make room. The teachers were surprisingly territorial about their lunch table, and each sat in the same spot each day. To Mike’s left was the other history teacher Mr. Carlton, then Mr. Starver the orchestra teacher. Hans sat directly across from Mike, with Janice sitting to his left. Finally, to Mike’s right was Miss Esparsa, the special ed teacher. Every third week, when the library was closed, Mrs. Burns would join them, but she wasn’t here this week.
Imogen opened her picnic basket and pulled out a placemat, a plate, and a set of silverware. She arranged the setting in front of Mike, then began pulling out Tupperware containers and dishing out food. She had prepared a lemon grass grilled shrimp appetizer, cream of asparagus soup, a Cajun-blackened chicken breast in Champaign sauce, and strawberry sorbet for dessert. While Mike ate, Imogen sat and stared adoringly at him. Mike got a perverse satisfaction from the envious glances that came his way from all over the lounge.
Mike, like the other teachers in the room, finished eating in about twenty two minutes. This was a necessity since he, like the other teachers in the room, had only a twenty five minute lunch break. He kissed Imogen goodbye and headed out of the faculty lounge, down the hall, and back to his classroom. He felt good. He thought that he might feel like dozing off by sixth period, but he never did. Though Imogen had supplied a fantastic meal (“a wonderful meal, not fantastic” he mentally corrected), it hadn’t made him so full that he felt sleepy.
The rest of the afternoon, which consisted only of two classes with his preparation period in between, went by quickly. The final bell of the day rang and the eighth graders shot out of the door like so many shotgun pellets discharged from a barrel. Mike sighed with both relief and resignation, then sat down to grade some papers. The door opened and he turned, expecting a returning student, but it was Imogen, smiling, who entered.
“Are you ready to go home, sir?”
“Almost,” Mike replied. “I need to finish grading these papers.”
Imogen wandered around the room, staring at the posters and reading the student work stapled to the bulletin boards, while Mike finished his task. She stood waiting patiently while he logged off his computer and locked the interior door. Then she snaked her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply on the mouth. He felt his body respond as blood redistributed itself throughout his body.
“Do you want to me to give you a blow job, sir?” Imogen asked.
“Yes.” Mike’s answer was more breathless than he had expected.
“Yes,” he repeated.
Imogen gently pushed him down into his desk chair and knelt in front of him. She deftly unbuckled his belt and opened his trousers. Mike took a quick look around the room. The interior door was locked, and because of the odd polyhedron shape of the classroom, nobody looking in the small window in the door would be able to see them. The exterior door also had a window, this one facing directly toward him. However anyone looking in this window would just see him sitting at his desk no doubt with a look of abject bliss on his face. At that moment, the afore mentioned look made its appearance as Imogen sucked his engorged cock into her mouth. The combination of suction and the up and down motion of her tongue as he bobbed her head brought him to the brink of orgasm with a speed Mike would have believed impossible before he had met her. A scant few minutes after starting, Imogen was smiling coyly as she wiped the few stray strands of cum from her chin with a slender index finger and then licked them off.
Later, they walked home hand in hand. What had been a rather stark and uninviting yard among the green lawns of the neighborhood just a week or so ago, was now an oasis. A mixture of green lawn and carefully selected desert landscaping. Mike was reminded of a golf course he had driven by in Vegas. He also noted for the first time, that Imogen had apparently at some point, painted the house. It wasn’t a different color so he hadn’t noticed. It was just... nice.
“How did you get the grass to grow so quickly?” Mike asked.
“I didn’t, sir,” Imogen replied. “I bought sod and put it down.”
“Oh.”
“It will probably die,” she continued. “This is the wrong time of the year to plant. But if it does, I’ll just get more.”
“Same with all the desert plants?”
“Yes sir.”
“You didn’t ask me for any money.”
“I’ve got money coming in from my ebay business now, sir.”
“Oh.”
Once inside, Mike plopped down in his recliner, received a shoulder and then a foot rub, a diet Pepsi, and then the television remote. He watched the previous week’s episode of “The Amazing Race” and started thinking about traveling himself to all of the places that the contestants on the show raced through. Yes. He could see Imogen and himself trekking across the outback in Australia or examining ancient Greek ruins in Turkey.
The rest of the week continued just as pleasantly for Mike as it had started. Imogen brought him lunch every day. Always something new and delicious. She didn’t usually stay until the end of the day and fellate him under his desk. She usually returned home and sucked him dry as he came in the front door. Each afternoon, Mike was treated like a king, with a shoulder rub and a foot rub, a cool drink, and anything else he wanted, usually before he knew that he wanted it. They went to the movies Monday night. Mike really enjoyed watching a scantily clad Scarlett Johansson and a latex-encased Christina Ricci chase time-traveling neo-Nazis through Jurassic jungles and across post-apocalyptic wastes. Imogen stared in fascination when Scarlet fought a swastika emblazoned Michelle Ryan, eventually causing her to fall into the mouth of a volcano, ending the threat of the Fourth Reich once and for all. After the movie, they had dinner at Mike’s favorite restaurant, “George’s”, which served quite possibly the greatest fillet on the planet. Imogen ordered a roasted vegetable platter, drank only water, then had her dinner wrapped to go so that Mike could eat it for lunch the following day.
Tuesday evening Betty and Jack came over to play Dungeons and Dragons. They brought their friends Dallas and Michelle. Mike and Betty had known Dallas since he was a little boy. At one time, he had lived in the house next door to Mike’s, and had been good friends with Mike’s son Mark. When Mike had played D&D with Betty and Mark in their childhood, Dallas had often played in the game with them. He had grown up to be a nice, albeit short and unkempt man. His girlfriend Michelle was cute, in an uninspiring kind of way. Smart too, though far too unsure of her own intelligence for it to be sexy. They played D&D for four hours, ate pizza and drank sodas. Everyone had a great time, though the really fierce monsters kept gravitating toward Jack. Betty gave her father a dirty look for picking on her husband, but at the end of the evening Jack actually seemed pleased to have been the center of so much attention.
Mike returned to the game room after showing his guests out the door to find Imogen stretching across the gaming table to reach the last miniatures. She had already put away most of those used in the game. She leaned completely across the table with her breasts pressed into the felt covered top, then turned and smiled at Mike and reached back to flip the back of her pleated mini skirt up revealing her completely naked ass and the jeweled butt plug which peaked at Mike from between those two fleshy but perfect formations. Mike’s cock became immediately rigid and he stepped forward, bent down, and bit her on her left cheek.
Imogen squealed with delight. Mike gently removed the butt plug and then dropped his pants and shorts. He then lined up the head of his cock with the still slightly opened orifice. Without fear of injury or discomfort, Imogen pushed her ass back, impaling herself. Mike began thrusting in and out and felt the now familiar sensations of gripping, stoking, and pulsating until he filled her interior with hot sperm.
Wednesday was the day that Imogen did stop by after school provide her husband with another mind blowing blow job. After walking home, the two of them climbed into the car and drove to Pico Mundo to spend the evening at the mall. They bought some new shoes for Imogen a white four inch wedge heel with multi-colored sandal straps across the top—a couple of new books for Mike, and walked around looking in windows for several hours. Mike had always hated window shopping before. It seemed that when he was with Imogen, every activity was a pleasant one.
Imogen cooked a sea bass on Thursday evening. Mike could only guess at the herbs used, but it was extremely tasty. After dinner, the two of them played their own game of Dungeons and Dragons, using the rules for erotic role-playing that Imogen had presented to Mike for Christmas. They had barely begun the seduction of Imogen’s elf maiden by a centaur, when Mike grabbed Imogen and spread her out across the table. He ripped off the delicate little pink thong she was wearing and buried his face in her sweet pussy. In moments she was gasping for air as he on sucked her delicate clit.
“I can’t cum unless you order me to, sir,” she said. “So, order me to now!”
“Cum for me, Immie,” he said, looking up at her.
Imogen’s orgasm was so powerful that Mike thought for a moment that the table would be reduced to toothpicks. Fortunately Imogen had crafted it to be quite strong. Mike’s only centaur figuring was broken off its base however. Mike laughed when Imogen’s eye’s welled up with tears over the loss, and she was quite inconsolable until Mike told her she could buy him two to replace it on ebay.
When the deceased man-horse had been removed from the field of battle, Mike climbed up to kneel between Imogen’s knees. Without any further thought of damaged tables or gaming miniatures, he stabbed his still hard cock into the soft and open folds of her wet pussy. Plunging in and out, Mike exulted in the sensations of that perfect pussy urging him on to ecstacy as Imogen’s hands caressed his face, chest, and shoulders. He thought he surely must have not had much semen left in his body, due to all the sex he had been having this week, and yet it felt like a gallon shooting into her when he did at last reach his massive orgasm.
Still, they played less than forty five minutes, until just as the elf maiden began sucking off an ogre, Mike found himself spread across the gaming table. This time Imogen was riding him, and he lay back and enjoyed himself as she peeled off her silk shirt while slowly gyrating up and down on his cock. Mike lasted a long time. An amazingly long time. He was surprised that he was able to finish at all, but as he looked up at those magnificent tits, jiggling ever so slightly as she wriggled sensually atop him, he remained as hard as steel. Finally he shot another load of sperm into her tight pussy. Afterwards, Imogen lifted up, scooted down the length of the table to sit on his shins and licked him completely clean. Though he felt his body respond, Mike knew there would be no third round that night (and it would have been a fourth, taking into account the afternoon blow job at the door). They were able to finish playing their session, with Imogen’s elf maiden riding away, fully sated, on the back of her centaur lover, though there was no figure to represent him on the gaming table.
Friday Mike had to eschew the proffered afternoon blow job. He was wiped out not only from a week of being back at school, but also from the workout which Imogen had come by and guided him through during his prep period. He came in the door, accepted his iced diet Pepsi, shoulder rub and foot rub, and had promptly fallen asleep in his recliner.
Mike opened his eyes to find the now familiar white room. The only thing in it was his own recliner. Mike wondered whether he would be visited by the first man, the one in silver, or his “competitor”, the one in silvery blue. It turned out to be the former.
“I suppose I should thank you,” said Mike.
“Are you satisfied with our product, Mr. Anderson? Are you happy with the XK9-75-GRL?”
“I don’t like it when you call her that. But yes, I’m very satisfied. I want to keep her.”
The man nodded his head in recognition.
“You’re from the future,” said Mike.
“Perhaps, but not as you understand it,” the man replied. “The convergence is coming soon, Mr. Anderson. You will have to choose.”
“Choose what?”
“Choose wisely. The XK9,... Imogen will help you choose wisely.”